


my body feels so cold

by shepromisestheearth



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Haphephobia, M/M, POV Second Person, spock is scared, vulcan gothic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24216496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepromisestheearth/pseuds/shepromisestheearth
Summary: And softly, slipping through the beastly things- large spokes pointing again her lips, wet and glistening. Shifting and inside, intention never rearing its head. It means happiness, she murmured. You wondered if it was your fault, that you didn’t know what it meant.“In Terran animalia, it means fear, does it not? Are you not too an animal, mother?”
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Kudos: 11





	my body feels so cold

**Author's Note:**

> wowow! two fics posted within a month? crazy i know. my writing discord has really helped me get back in the groove of writing, and this was for the weekly prompt “regional gothic.” me and a few other members conspired vulcan gothic like all at the same time, so giving credit where it’s due. 
> 
> poor Spock.
> 
> anyways! hope you all enjoy.

so i pull out my tongue  
because it reminds me how it all went wrong  
-

You could hear the robes whisper, though you knew nothing without a mouth could speak. It called from you from the darkened wardrobe, as mother did her hair in the mirror. It was dark honey then, spilling over her shoulders; and the servant girl would take the curls by her ear, stretch it’s length, place a comb at the bottom and brush. Fiber to flesh, you would take the cuff of father’s robe and place your nose against it before quickly drawing back. Leaning forward, cautious, you tried to understand what it said. It was father’s voice, but the words you wish he said to you as he parted to that other place. You didn’t know anyone had heard the thought, because you had kept your distance. 

It was her who called out to you, and held your knee as green sap oozed from it. She had always known you bloody, around the eyes and on your head. The palms she held the bandage in whispered to you, too. Energy littering against your bones as she cupped the back, making you tense. She wove the fabric around and around, pressing into the pale expanse. 

And softly, slipping through the beastly things- large spokes pointing again her lips, wet and glistening. Shifting and inside, intention never rearing its head. It means happiness, she murmured. You wondered if it was your fault, that you didn’t know what it meant. 

“In Terran animalia, it means fear, does it not? Are you not too an animal, mother?” 

-

The sound had choked your ears. Your mind recalled the hologram observatories, of great beasts circling one another. Though you knew they were fake, you could hear every part of them- their fur rustling as their sinewy legs arched, the snap of their jowls. One dug into the earth with its ivory claws, as the other leapt forward and overtook him. Tore into its neck, with the same howl that mother made as she ripped off the shawl. Periwinkle like her eyes, it crumpled to the floor as a painted fingernail stabbed into father's chest. 

Taking her by the arms, father’s mouth moved not a quarter upwards. 

With a quiver, her hands formed fists against his chest and she buried her face inside of it. And that howl was worse, a great wail that filled the room with hot air, reverberating against the wooden walls. How could she bathe father in this wetness, tremble so violently and sacrifice what she had vowed to be. 

Stumbling away, you slunk up the stairs and took fistfuls of the cotton sheets. Still misunderstanding what had inspired it, had you sprint for the door and reconsider. His half lidded eyes lurked on the doorways, never fully sealed. 

You wanted so badly to please him, so you kept your mouth shut. 

-

As you grew older, the feeling did. You picked at your gums with your fingernails, until green plucked at the white of your teeth. The two things that frightened you the most never parted at home, until he crept by. Then you would keep your hands clenched in fists in your robe- your brother’s robe, because you saw nothing of him anymore. Was he your brother, or half of a whole? Inexplicably, the same way you were. Even the fabric was too much, fibers of being where Sybok ended and Spock began. And you would pass full-fledged beings in the hallway, with their fingertips poking out from their robes, because those were there’s. They were not dead to their father. 

In the desert, you would beat it over the wooden slats and shake the sand from the folds. Laid it on the chair on the enclosed patio at night, and it whispered to you. Asked you to join it. 

You left Sybok dead in the chair, and didn’t wear the robe again. 

You turned off the light. 

-

The eyes of what is whole are on you again. But father is on the other half, your brother is dead, and the animal is in bed. You realize as you turn that those behind you are whole beings, and though they resemble you they are nothing like you at all. And they’ll remind you, shoving you into the dust. 

All around you, the sand swells with moisture and flattens darker than it once was. You are creating concave places where your eyelashes meet the ground, and the liquid stings unlike anything you’ve ever known. Exposed to the sun, it burns your flesh where it falls and makes the earth itself slink away from you. 

They are taunting in his tongue, as your screams stick in the hot air. There is no wind to push it aside, so it lingers on your skin like sweat, even as you flinch. Even as you tuck your hands in the robe, they find them. Keep you down by the wrists. 

And they stare, with their empty faces, and they must think what you exhale is your mother’s language. And in a way, it was the beastly howl that left her lips.  
-

It is when you find yourself on the other half that you realize that you would have never been a fit either way.  
The beings around you look differently from you, they are animals- rounded ears like mice, eyes warm like lions. They stick themselves in freezer boxes, howl and show weakness. Their flesh connects regularly, they bare their teeth when they do. Coming together, it stretches and they hesitate to part. 

He had been leaning over your desk in the evening hour, as you wrote the last of your work. When you rested your palm on the wood, his fingertip pressed against your flesh. Why did the flesh of Terrans burn, beg you to become of them. You would remain half forever, pull away and place your head lower than it once was. His mouth formed into something only humans did, apologize. 

“Did I frighten you?”

The burning was inside of him, and he did not answer, as it permeated his being.


End file.
